844 days, 20,256 hours, 1,215,360 minutes, or 72,921,600 seconds. That is the approximate duration of my world tour. I never wanted it to end and now, in a manner of speaking, I suppose it never has to. If you wish to go by country do so by clicking on one above. They are numbered in the order I visited them, more or less. If you enjoy reading about it even a tenth as much as I enjoyed living it then you will not have wasted your time. Grab a refreshing beverage, settle in a comfortable chair, and make a journey across the world, experiencing it as I did. Then get off your ass and check it out for yourself. You're not getting any younger.

Wild by Nature (Chitwan National Park, Nepal)

March
4th,
2010- The next morning I arose to the misty wonderland that is such
an enchanting feature of the early morning landscape. I am sure
Chandu felt exactly as he looked, which is to say shitty.
While Denis was off at his home preparing our lunch for the day my
expedition leader was supposed to take me for breakfast at the local
food stall where he'd inebriated himself the previous afternoon. I
have a sneaky suspicion that his failure to do so was related to his
lack of funds and the probable debt he'd incurred the day before.
What he did do was to ask for a bit of cash to pay for my night's
lodging and meals. He said that it would be better for him to pay as
they may demand more from me being a tourist and all. Nothing out of
the ordinary there. What I learned after our trip (assuming Denis
himself was being straight with me) was that Chandouchbag pocketed
the money and never paid Denis and his family for the meals. I was an
unwitting pawn in the deception.

When
we set out for the misty riverbank to hop a dugout canoe to the other
side Chandu appeared to be as excited for another jungle run as I am
when I purchase deodorant. Sloshed Chandu is much more jovial than
hungover Chandu. Once again we entered the cloud forest in search of
exotic fauna. Once again we visited places of rhino frequency only to
be flabbergasted at their absence. The fact that local villagers were
cleaning a small lake (as in removing floating debris in order to
make fishing easier……I think) where the pachyderms like to frolic
did nothing to aid our efforts. A stop at a wooden watchtower yielded
no better results but, again, the misty backdrop was so spellbinding
that I hardly cared. We moved on.

Tiger scratch. Mr. Kahn's way of letting other kitties know that this mutha f***ing tree is his.

Since
we (as in Chandu) decided to skip breakfast in the village we opted
to take a break and have a small bite. As it turns out the place
where we stopped was the gharialbreeding
center inside Chitwan National Park. Chandu seemed to be surprised
that I was interested in going inside to have a look. Maybe he
thought I was jaded from the untold thousands we'd seen along the
river (by 'untold thousands' I mean zero of course). I don't believe
Hungover Grumpy Pants had any interest in going inside.

The
zoo-like nature of the place does diminish the effect on one's sense
of adventure but it was still worth a look as gharials, although
harmless, look unmistakably menacing. There was also some interesting
information about the center and their conservation efforts.

After
my crocodilian extravaganza we pressed on and began our jungle trek
along one of the jeep tracks that transverse the park's interior. It
was along one of these tracks that we encountered one of the armored
giants. It started with some rustling in the nearby forest and
culminated in the appearance of Horny the Rhino. It happened to be at
a crossroad and as we turned the corner we spotted him/her standing
by the road. Although unable to see us (they have terrible eyesight)
its sense of hearing and smell, both impeccable, alerted it to our
presence. Chandu and Denis were a bit on edge and became unsettled
when it started to slowly plod in our direction. This normally
denotes an aggressive rhino so Chandu decided climbing a tree might
be in order, not only to escape any possible wrath, but also to get a
better view. Seeing as Chandu was hungover and slow to begin with he
probably figured any footrace between the rhino (up to speeds of 30
mph) and us would not be to his advantage.

However,
it was not long before the object of our affection decided he had
better things to do then fiddle around with the Three Musketeers. He
disappeared into the elephant grass. That was not to be our only
sighting. I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of a mother
and baby in a different area of the forest. Unfortunately, our
distance and the tree cover prevented me from getting a photo.
Getting too close to a mother rhino is never a good idea anyway so we
kept moving.

The
second night was spent at a Madi village
at the other end of the park. This is another farming community on
the outskirts of the park that, from what I've read, barely manages
to eke out a living. Trapped between the national park on the north
and India to the south their access to basic necessities, especially
health care, is extremely limited. The fact that they live on a flood
plain (the monsoon season is a difficult time) and are under constant
assault from wildlife (their crops provide easy fodder for all sorts
of jungle inhabitants) does nothing to aid their situation. And yet
you still see the smiles.

I
watched a group (from small children to old women) sit in the dying
light while producing roof tiles from mud. So I as stood there and
watched this and other village activities I felt of a sense of
gratitude for being blessed enough to visit such a place but could
not escape that all too familiar feeling that being a tourist in a
place like that takes on an almost criminal component. Accident of
birth. That is all. I was lucky. The little girl with the headscarf
and million dollar smile making roof tiles in the mud was not.

Considering
I slept on wooden planks I felt remarkably well rested the next
morning. After a spot of tea we once again headed off into the mist.
Not longer after leaving the outer confines of the village we came
across some extremely fresh tiger prints and a pile of tiger poop
that was practically steaming. Khan was close. I have a feeling that
the elusive orange furball was watching us, mocking our ineptness and
inability to catch even a glimpse of his magnificence. You'll
see me when and if I decide it will be so. Fools. You would
think that with all the evidence of a tiger's nearby presence we
would've lingered a bit. But no. Sober Chandu equals Boring 'I would
rather be drinking' Chandu. We pressed on.

By
this point of my excursion it was impossible to distinguish Chandu's (a.k.a Mr. Wild by Nature) true abilities from a steaming pile of bullshit. At one point he told
me he could smell a nearby rhino and, when we had come across those
fresh tiger prints I'd mentioned, he said he could smell the kitty. I
could smell something alright. Later that day we heard two male
rhinos battling it out in the nearby jungle. I wanted to have a look.
Chandu wanted to run in the other direction. I followed Chandu.

We
also passed some employees from one of the lodges inside the park
(Tiger Tops) that showed us the damage an angry male elephant had
done to the stable area where they keep the domesticated elephants.
They believed 'Dumbo the Belligerent' had gone in the direction we
were headed and advised us to be careful. Apparently, this particular
elephant has a reputation for being an asshole. We moved forward and
I was told if the shit hits the fan we should head for the hills.
That was a perfect plan until we reached the fields of ten foot
elephant grass. Perfect.

Dumbo
was a no show. However, we did come across some gaur (wild
bison). Weighing in at around 2,500 lbs they are not to be trifled
with. The two we spotted were angry but, luckily, not with us. It
appeared to either be a mating issue, territorial dispute, or both.
There was a moment of tension when, as we passed the area where
they'd entered the tall grass, we heard a sudden crash and scream (a
cross between a pissed off wookie and
a cow in heat) of a fast moving beast. Not knowing what direction
they were headed we hauled ass in the direction of a nearby hill. I
nearly soiled myself but had to laugh when I spotted Denis half way
up a tree. Fortunately, for us they had proceeded in the opposite
direction and were much more concerned with kicking their own asses
than grinding us into a pulp. Chandu told me one of his friends had
been in the hospital for two weeks after being attacked by one of
these creatures. Chandu was sober at this point so I am reasonably
sure the story was accurate.

Our
final night was spent at a tented camp along the river outside the
national park. It was a peaceful place and a relaxing way to end the
journey. A sunset walk along the riverbank was excellent.

Chandu's
cousin showed up with the jeep that would be taking us back to
Sauraha the next morning. Although not really in the mood I was once
again invited to have a drink (rum this time) and sit and have a chat
along the river back. For Chandu and his cousin (or brother. I am
still not certain) alcoholic bliss was insufficient so Mary Jane also
decided to join the party. You have to keep in mind that Shiva
(Nepal's most sacred Hindu god) is fond of the ganja so it is not as
a sordid an enterprise as is the case in other societies. Moderation
is key. Chandu and his cuz seemed to have misplaced theirs.

I
arose the next morning to find Chandu barely capable of speech. Him
and his compadre had forfeited a night's sleep in favor of
debauchery. They were a mess. I gave Chandu the money for my room and
my food bill. Instead of paying it he doled it out to some of the
employees as a tip. I was to learn that him and his cousin ran up a
bill somewhere in the neighborhood of $222. That is no easy feat but
I suppose when you buy drinks and food for the entire village it is
not unexpected. After breakfast I was presented with a bill I'd
already paid. Not only that but it included the three glasses of rum
that I thought had been provided as part of an invitation to sit and
enjoy some local camaraderie. When I saw that I said Nuh-uh. Time
to draw the line. Denis, who was rather disgusted with our leader's
behavior, came to my aid.

It
turns out that Chandu is friends with the owner and believed that all
the accoutrements of their bender were going to be provided free of
charge. Ingesting enough alcohol to send an elephant to the infirmary
did nothing to temper his irrationality. The owner showed little
concern so I believe it had been decided that 'Chandu the
Magnificent' would compensate him at a later date, but who the hell
knows. Good luck.

The
apogee of my morning came when I discovered that Chandu's partner in
depravity would be driving us back to Sauraha. I found that prospect
to be a bit frightening to say the least but as I had little choice
at that moment I climbed into the back seat and crossed everything on
my body that could be crossed for good luck. Luckily, the roads were
unpaved and uneven so it was necessary to drive at a reduced speed. I
also monitored his movements fairly closely, ready to bail at the
first sign of erratic maneuvers. Amazingly, his driving was
remarkably steady and deliberate. Years of practice would probably
account for this anomaly. Still the situation was not ideal.

Even
more comical was the fact that no one in the vehicle appeared to know
the way back to Sauraha. I will admit that it is a confusing
patchwork of small dirt roads stretching through villages and
farmland but one has to wonder how the *$%# the guy got there in the
first place. Along the way we stopped to make an inquiry (one of
many) and Chandu's 'cousin' did something that blew my mind. He
purchased a beer which he then placed in the pocket of the
driver-side door for sipping as he drove. The time: 8:45 am. At that
point I was ready to start drinking.

Thankfully,
the drive was extremely pleasant and the cruise through the flat
farmland of the Terai dotted with villages and folks milling about
was beautiful in the morning light. I did not even mind the few stops
we made as it gave me an opportunity to get a few shots of the
bucolic landscape. Even with all the nonsense I was thankful to be
there and appreciated the experience.

I
made it back to Sauraha and subsequently Kathmandu in one piece.
Notwithstanding the high drama soap opera (As
The Jungle Turns)
I did manage to enjoy myself but Chandu is definitely off my
Christmas card list. If not for the kindness and patience of his much
more capable assistant the trip probably would have been a total
disaster. Denis is a good man and we may meet again. There is another
park in west Nepal. It has tigers.

'I
wanted a perfect ending... Now, I've learned, the hard way, that some
poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning,
middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking
the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to
happen next. Delicious ambiguity.'

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